


Control

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Dominance, Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘He called you my pet.’” Giriko attempts to convince Justin of his control. Justin proves resistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

Giriko isn’t trying to pick a fight, for the first time in known memory. He’s sprawled across the couch as usual, feet overlapping Justin on the other end, half-drowsing while the priest rambles gently about the conversations with his fellow Death Scythes and Giriko only half-listens.

“He asked about you,” the priest is saying, and Giriko opens an eye to watch the lack of expression on the blond’s face. Justin’s fingers curl gentle against the arch of Giriko’s foot as the priest keeps talking. “Although he called you my  _pet_.”

Giriko is upright before he means to be, irritation firing in his veins before he has even fully processed the statement. “ _What_?”

“He called you my pet.” Justin’s still touching him but not looking at Giriko’s face. The words are flat and calm, like he’s saying something perfectly ordinary.

Giriko scowls, but it’s not like Justin said it himself, and although he doesn’t lie back down he makes a concerted effort to level his voice before he speaks. “Huh. I knew Death Scythe was an idiot, but I didn’t know he was  _that_  oblivious.”

Justin laughs in what sounds like agreement and some of the defensive tension unwinds from Giriko’s shoulder. He starts to relax back to the couch as he says, “I mean, anyone with eyes can tell which of us is in charge.”

Justin’s hands go still against the chainsaw’s skin, and there is a moment before he says, “You think he has that  _wrong_?” and there is the lurking sound of a laugh under his voice.

Giriko’s mouth goes tight with irritation and he glares at the blond who is  _still_  not looking at him. “You had better not be  _agreeing_  with him.”

Justin waves a hand like he’s brushing away cobwebs. “Of course not. He’s being deliberately provocative and dismissive. But his basic understanding seems accurate to me.” His fingers go tight against Giriko’s foot again. “I mean, I  _do_ have most of the control.”

Giriko doesn’t think through sitting up. The motion comes straight from a bone-deep need to clarify this astounding misconception that Justin is laboring under. His fingers close hard against the back of the priest’s neck; Justin tips his head back in capitulation to the hold, but he is smiling and not looking at Giriko.

“Are you  _trying_  to start a fight?” Giriko hisses hard against the blond’s ear. Justin can’t move his head with the hold the chainsaw has on him, but he blinks very slowly and licks his lips before he speaks.

“I’m sorry,” he says, polite confusion rather than any actual apology. “Do you  _disagree_?”  _Then_  he looks sideways, blue eyes full of amusement at a joke that Giriko sure isn’t laughing at.

He can’t even find words to express his irritation, just growls hard and frustrated against Justin’s ear. The priest’s eyelids flicker and Giriko can see him swallow, but when he speaks his voice is still maddeningly level.

“What was that?” It’s a taunt, he’s still smirking, and Giriko has to choke back his incoherent frustration before he can manage to drag words past his teeth.

“Fuck you,” he starts, and even though Justin laughs it helps a little. “I --” He wants to threaten, wants to slide into full-blown furious rage, but Justin’s calm is always longer lasting than his own, and then the priest will have  _won_. He forces himself into feigned calm, crushes his fury into an imitation of Justin’s teasing tone. “You think  _you’re_  in control? That’s  _cute._ ”  _That_  takes the smile away, forces Justin’s smirking face into an irritated frown. “Seems to me  _I’m_  the one with the advantage at the moment.” He leans in to prove his point, exhales slow over Justin’s mouth, and the priest’s lips part as he sucks in a startled breath. “Let’s clear this up, shall we?”

Giriko lets his hold go as he comes forward, twisting his legs so he’s on his knees and can lean in over the blond and bring his extra size to bear to hold Justin down with a hand at the priest’s shoulder and one against his thigh. Justin’s eyebrows come up, but he doesn’t fight at all, just lets Giriko push him down into the couch, and the chainsaw’s blood fires with the visceral satisfaction of dominance.

“See?” he purrs, leaning in close until Justin’s hair brushes against his forehead. “Not sure how you misinterpreted this, but this seems pretty fucking clear to me.”

Justin laughs and tips his head up until his lips are just against Giriko’s. The chainsaw is almost too distracted to follow the priest’s words, and if he were saying anything else he would ignore it. But what he says, slow and careful, is “Really? I’m not convinced, myself,” and as the meaning lands in Giriko’s brain he hisses in anger. His hands go tense, trying to curl into fists and digging into Justin’s skin past the barrier of his clothes, and the priest is gasping in reaction as Giriko’s mouth crushes against his.

It’s barely a kiss, by ordinary standards -- there’s a lot more teeth than there probably should be, for one thing, and Giriko is forcing his tongue past Justin’s lips as fast as the priest opens his mouth. The chainsaw’s not sure if he’s more pleased by Justin’s immediate acquiescence or frustrated by the lack of pain reaction he’s getting, but then Justin sighs in satisfaction and pleasure wins out for a minute. When Giriko pulls back, the priest’s eyes are shut, lips parted and damp from the contact of the chainsaw’s mouth, and he starts to smile even before he blinks open to look up. His face is cast in the shadow of Giriko’s shoulders so his eyes look dark instead of inscrutable blue.

“How about now?” Giriko asks, and knows even before Justin shifts what the response will be. The priest twists, arching his back and stretching his hands above his head so the chainsaw can feel his body move underneath Giriko’s hands, and when he relaxes he leaves his hands up, draped over the back of the couch.

“I think you need to try harder,” he purrs, lowering his eyelashes and tipping his chin down so he’s looking up at Giriko through a haze of yellow. “Don’t  _you_?”

Giriko is expecting the response, and Justin’s tone has all the teasing edge he is hoping for, so when he growls in irritation it’s only half-sincere, and when Justin laughs and reaches up for his neck he lets him.

“How hard do you want me to  _try_?” Giriko bites the words off, coming in so his lips are against Justin’s hair, and Justin turns his head and winds his arms around the chainsaw’s neck so he can drag his fingernails against Giriko’s skin.

“Come  _on_ ,” he laughs, low and amused, and Giriko wants him to laugh like that forever and wants to choke him silent and hisses with indecision. “Are you asking my  _permission_?”

The chainsaw growls and tightens his grip on Justin’s thigh until the priest gasps and tries to pull away from the pressure, involuntary reflex taking over the breath of heat just audible under his inhale.

“Well,” Justin says after a breath, and his voice is cool as ice without any trace of the shake Giriko can feel in the weapon’s shoulder and the muscle under his hand. “You  _have_  it.”

“ _Do_  I,” Giriko grates past gritted teeth. “I’ll make you take that back.” He lets Justin’s shoulder go, settles his fingers against the narrow line of the priest’s waist, and slides the hand against Justin’s leg up to dig into his hip.

“I’d like to see you try,”Justin says, and he’s laughing again, but when Giriko tries to dig fingerprints into his skin again the priest is responding too fast for him to gain any traction, twisting his legs up to wrap around Giriko’s hips and arching into the chainsaw’s touch so there’s no resistance, nothing to pull him into at all. The chainsaw hisses, shoves back against the couch anyway, and Justin exhales hard under the weight of the other weapon crushing him back into the surface but doesn’t whimper, just opens his mouth against Giriko’s neck and traces his tongue across the skin there. It’s not the reaction Giriko was hoping for but it’s early yet, and it’s no  _fun_  if he wins before the end.

When he shifts up Justin comes too, pressed close against his chest, and it’s harder to move when he’s managing the priest’s weight too but worth it, once he gets them off the couch and against a wall. Justin’s shoulders hit hard since Giriko’s not being particularly careful about his approach, and the chainsaw can feel the priest’s hold jolt loose for a breath as Justin loses his at the impact. That doesn’t get him a response either, beyond the initial hit; Justin lets one leg down to improve his balance, and when Giriko grinds forward the priest just hums with what breath he can get and shoves right back, regardless of his trapped position. When Giriko pulls back half-a-step Justin is smiling, his head tipped down so his face is in shadow again, but his teeth are bright and he is almost laughing, breathing sharp and jerky with amusement.

“Is this  _funny_  to you?” Giriko hisses, and Justin tips his head back, shuts his eyes and brings his face up into the light so Giriko can see his pulse against his throat.

“Are you not amused?” he asks, and Giriko’s fingers go tight with desperate undirected frustration before he can grab the priest’s leg and pull him loose, close his fingers around that heartbeat and shove Justin down until the other weapon hits the floor.

“Fuck you,” he offers, but Justin is still looking up, and with the changed angle Giriko can see the bright shine of taunting pleasure in those blue eyes.

“Okay,” he says, and he is reaching for Giriko’s pants before the chainsaw can even get his hands there. He growls and smacks the too-quick fingers away, and Justin rolls his eyes but shifts his hold to Giriko’s hips instead while the chainsaw gets his fly open and his cock out.

Giriko has some half-formed thought to force Justin’s mouth open, but the priest is coming forward before he can finish developing it, closing his lips around the head of the chainsaw’s erection before Giriko’ hands are entirely free, and for a minute the need to  _win_  is set aside under the satisfaction of Justin’s mouth hot and damp around him. Giriko grabs Justin’s hair, fistfuls of short yellow curls, and the priest blinks up at him and his mouth is full of Giriko but his eyes are taunting even so, even when the chainsaw shoves his hips forward and pulls Justin’s head in by main force until he bottoms out against the back of the priest’s throat. Justin’s fingers go tight, his eyes shut, and Giriko can feel him start to gag at the sudden movement -- and then he relaxes, and looks up again, and a spike of pleasure goes straight to Giriko’s spine in spite of himself at the way Justin  _looks_ , all inviting eyes and red lips and pale throat. When he steps in Justin leans back until the back of his head hits the wall, so Giriko can hold him steady instead of pulling him forward, and the chainsaw can feel him suck in air when he slides half-out but there’s no sign of any resistance. Justin shuts his eyes again when Giriko thrusts forward, and although there’s an involuntary flinch as he starts to choke his fingers are pulling  _forward_ , like he wants Giriko  _farther_  when the chainsaw has nothing left to offer.

After the first thrust it’s clear this isn’t going to get the reaction from Justin that Giriko  _wants_ , but the pleasure pooling hot in his stomach is satisfying enough that he considers finishing right here, when his brain is able to manage any consideration at all between the grip of his fingers against Justin’s hair and the desperate hold of the priest’s hands against his hips and Justin’s  _mouth_ , all heat and warmth and the curl of his tongue and the jerk of his throat, and then the blond  _moans_  and Giriko has to pull free, use his hold against Justin’s hair to hold him away while he catches his breath for a minute.

“Okay,” he finally says, and the sound is all torn to pieces against his shaking voice but he can’t care at the moment. “Fuck this.” He lets go with one hand, grabs the front of Justin’s clothes to yank him to his feet, and the priest stumbles getting his feet under him so for a minute Giriko is holding his full weight, minimal though it is, by the hold on the cloth. Then he gets his bearings, closes a hand over Giriko’s wrist, and before he can change his mind Giriko turns away towards the bedroom and pulls Justin after him.

“Take your  _fucking_  clothes off,” he orders, shoving the priest towards the bed as he pulls his own shirt up off over his head. Justin pauses long enough to drag his hand over his mouth -- the motion catches Giriko’s eyes and he freezes with his shirt halfway off to watch the moisture damp on Justin’s lips catch against the priest’s palm. Then Justin catches his eye, and smiles so wide Giriko can see it even behind his hand, and the chainsaw hisses in frustration and turns sideways so he can focus on getting his clothes off without the distraction of Justin’s  _face_. His boots takes a minute to get loose, but Justin has more layers and Giriko’s pants are half-off already, and by the time he turns back the priest is just reaching for the front of his black pants.

Giriko steps forward faster than Justin can react; the priest is just looking up when Giriko sets his fingers against the pale bruises coming up on the blond’s narrow waist and he nearly stumbles back, his composure shattering for just a moment at the chainsaw’s approach.

“What about now?” Giriko offers, coming in to catch his teeth just against Justin’s collarbone. When the priest tips his head he knows the answer, again.

“Keep trying.” Justin’s fingers come down between them to pull at the front of his pants, and he’s stepping free faster than Giriko feels ought to be possible, angling his hips in so there’s the slide of skin on skin and the pressure of Justin’s cock digging into the chainsaw’s stomach.

“Yeah,  _fine_ ,” he growls, and shoves hard so Justin stumbles back and falls against the bed. Giriko  _doesn’t_  come forward right away in favor of finding the lube, but he glances back as he’s opening the bottle and Justin is angling himself over the sheets, and his lower lip is caught between his teeth and his hands are against the imprints of Giriko’s fingers on his skin. The chainsaw doesn’t look back down at what he’s doing in favor of watching Justin watch him, and when he comes back over the priest smirks and bucks his hips up off the bed.

Giriko comes down to rest his knee on the bed and reaches out to cover Justin’s fingers with his own. “Turn  _over_ ,” he growls, and then he pulls and shoves and flips Justin face-forward into the mattress. The priest squeaks in surprise and throws his hand out to catch himself against the bed before Giriko closes his hand over the priest’s shoulder.

“Hold still,” he says, but when Justin wiggles and angles his hips Giriko doesn’t complain, just closes his fingers against the priest’s skin and grips tight before he slides his free hand down over the other weapon’s ass. Justin inhales hard and sighs so loud Giriko’s pretty sure it’s deliberate. The chainsaw laughs, short and startled, and presses a finger inside the priest so Justin’s back arches and he gasps hard.

“What about now?” Giriko asks. His voice is a little strained but from the way Justin’s hands are fisting into the sheets he thinks the priest won’t notice. “Who’s in control, do you think?”

Justin sucks in air, twists at his waist to blink at Giriko’s face, and manages a smile in spite of how dark his eyes are. “Do you think it’s  _you_?”

Giriko groans somewhere between arousal and irritation and slides his finger in farther so Justin trembles and gasps under his touch. “Are you  _arguing_?”

Justin angles himself back, laughs against the sheets. “If I say yes will you keep touching me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “ _Yes_ , I’m  _arguing_.”

Giriko laughs even though it comes out saw-edged from his throat and presses another finger inside the priest. Justin presses his face into the sheets and moans, bucks his hips down into the bed, and Giriko laughs and slides his fingers down from Justin’s hip to curl between the blond’s cock and the sheets.

“Still?”

Justin’s back curves like a bow and he presses himself against the chainsaw’s hand, but when he takes a breath he says, “Keep  _trying_ , Giriko.”

Giriko groans and pulls his fingers free a little too fast and a little too hard, and while Justin is gasping in for breath he comes up onto the bed and slicks his hand over his cock to call back the fading sensation of the priest’s mouth.

“Fuck, Justin,” he says, and Justin laughs again, flattens his hands into the mattress and pushes himself up onto his elbows.

“You complaining?” he asks, and Giriko reaches out to curls his fingers against the priest’s neck and shoulder and shove down.

“Shut  _up_ ,” he manages, and then he gets ahold of the blond’s hip and pushes forward into Justin’s ass. The priest chokes and gasps for air and Giriko half-laughs around the pleasure hot over his tongue. He curls his fingers tight against skin, pulls back to thrust in again, and Justin inhales air sharply as he moves, like Giriko’s controlling his lungs, and the sound grounds out along the chainsaw’s spine like a spark.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Giriko says, and his fingers dig into the back of Justin’s neck. “ _Fuck_  you -- you are --”

Justin braces himself against the bed, shoves back to meet the forward motion of Giriko’s hips, and half-laughs. It’s breathy but audible nonetheless, and then he says, “ _Coherent_?”

Giriko hisses through his teeth and pushes hard, forces the priest’s face down hard into the sheets, and when Justin whimpers he slides his hand sideways so he can press his fingers into the priest’s windpipe. “ _Fuck_  you,” he says, carefully and perfectly clear. Justin gasps, Giriko can hear the whine in his throat, and the chainsaw drops forward so his chest is pressed flat against the priest’s back and he can free his hand to wrap around Justin’s cock. Justin’s throat works as he tries to inhale against Giriko’s fingers. The chainsaw groans and pulls his grip tight and hard so the blond goes taut under him.

Giriko has every intention of getting the priest off first, but he doesn’t bet on the whine of Justin’s breath and the way Justin  _feels_  writhing under him, and by the time he identifies the heat against his spine he can’t manage to care enough to hold back. It’s worth it for the way Justin gasps as his fingers come loose from the blond’s throat, just before hot pleasure crashes over him and he loses his sense of vision for a moment.

Once he is back in himself, he drops sideways to the bed, pulls Justin back against him so he can feel the blond tremble when he slides his hand over his cock. Tipped sideways Justin can reach behind him to grab at the chainsaw’s hip, and Giriko can feel the priest’s orgasm coming in the tension in his fingers and the arch in his back before the blond gasps and bucks up into Giriko’s hand.

There’s a moment of silence, with just the sound of Justin’s panting breath overlapping Giriko’s and their limbs tangled together. Then the priest breathes in slow and careful.

“Not convinced,” he says, and Giriko hisses and pulls Justin back, but the blond is laughing and Giriko can feel it though every inch of his body, and his anger lacks the fire to do anything but lean in and dig his teeth into the priest’s shoulder. Justin reaches up to dig his fingers into the chainsaw’s hair and keeps laughing, and Giriko smiles into the blond’s skin where Justin can’t see him.


End file.
